


Words of Love

by TessaDoesThings



Series: Tessa's Soft Wars [2]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff, It's like strip poker for people who don't play cards, Star Wars AU - Soft Wars, Strip flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25258870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TessaDoesThings/pseuds/TessaDoesThings
Summary: A meeting of two lovers and a meeting of two cultures.“Interested in floating a pear with me?” Colt askes, drawing a random fruit from the bowl without so much as breaking eye contact with Shaak. Shaak caught herself making a strangled noise which she tried to abort, but she ended up choking on air and gasping for breath between huff of laughter.
Relationships: Colt (Star Wars)/Shaak Ti
Series: Tessa's Soft Wars [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829968
Comments: 9
Kudos: 177
Collections: Open Source Soft Wars





	Words of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CmonCmon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CmonCmon/gifts), [Project0506](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/gifts), [Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Exvodus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25040320) by [Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/Primarybufferpanel). 



Shaak Ti sprawled across the blue couch in her apartment, with her lekku pressing into the armrest that she now rests her head against, and her feet hang off the armrest on the other side. The cushions are lumpy beneath her back where they no longer quite pop back to their original shapes after years of abuse. The couch stands out against the whites and grays of the two-room apartment the Kaminoans had given to her when she arrived. It was one of the only things she’d brought with her from the Temple, and by far the largest.

The Togruta Jedi traces her finger along the messy stitches that Fe had used to mend the spot she ripped the night of her knighting ceremony, running sideways in a bright green thread. The slice in the cushion must have been a long, curling, winding thing. Idly, Shaak wonders what exactly had happened while she was in that council meeting, but that was one of the mysteries forever left to the force now. The answer had died with Fe. She’s starting to suspect that Fe was bleeding when she was repairing them, as Shaak could still smell her although the scent should have faded years ago. Blood was the only thing even the best Togruta trackers would be able to smell after such time. A remnant of a hunter past, a culture that had pushed and pulled at Shaak her whole life, drawing her back to Shili.

Perhaps, when the war was over, when the Vode were free, Shaak would return to Shili again. She would like to train another padawan there, if the force should guide her so.

Shaak felt the air twitch as her door gave two short vibrations – a warning system she had installed herself after she found the inexplicable carbon scoring on the wall in the closet, and the blaster stashed under the floor. When the door didn’t buzz a third time, the Togrutan pulls her hand away from where it had been reaching for her ‘saber. If it vibrated only twice, it means whoever it was had both the door code and was on Shaak’s own, more limited, list of welcome guests.

With a sigh, she floats the glass of Tarisian ale (Strong stuff, really. Shaak should ask Depa where it came from) to the table by her head with the force, and gently brushed against a familiar presence as it stepped into her room.

“Colt,” She called out, relaxing as he came into view, stopping in the small kitchenette of her apartment, leaning next to the bowl of fruit Shaak left out for any of the Vode younglings who often stopped by. The commander eases himself onto one of the stools that dotted the space, the sporadic collection of parts of his shell that he was wearing clanking together gently in the mostly quiet room. Once he was settled, Colt reaches towards the bowl of fruit without looking at it, and looked right at Shaak in that way of his, making her feel like he was the Jedi, looking past her physical body right at her force signature.

“Interested in floating a pear with me?” Colt askes, drawing a random fruit from the bowl without so much as breaking eye contact with Shaak. Shaak caught herself making a strangled noise which she tried to abort, but she ended up choking on air and gasping for breath between huff of laughter.

“Colt, where on Kamino did you learn **that**?” She asked, even as she searches her mind for a suitably dirty phrase in Mando’a to retort. Colt has helped himself to a glass and is now filling it with one of the lighter wines she keeps in her kitchenette for any human or near-humans who want to remain conscious when they are done drinking. He takes a sip before answering.

“When General Fisto was here three rotations ago to pick up his new ARCs, I asked him. It didn’t seem fair that you could catch me off guard with the phrases of my allit, but I had none of yours to do the same.” Shaak can smell the smugness in the hormones radiating off of Colt, and the flat will hold the amusement he bleeds into the force for at least another hour. Truly, Shaak’s Commander has quite the impressive poker face.

“Why Commander,” Shaak bats her eyelids at the man in her kitchen in a most ridiculous way, “And here I thought you knew all you had to do was ask if you wanted help maintaining your deecee.” A fond smile crossed Colt’s face, but otherwise, no reaction. Shaak took a swig of her drink, which she had floated back to her side. She was going to have to bug Ponds at the next council meeting for new material, at this rate. Colt raises an eyebrow at Shaak, and she shrugged off her outer robe.

“I missed you in training today. After all, when I think of being without you, I’m in agony.” Colt says as he stands from his chair with his drink and moves a couple of steps closer to Shaak. His delivery is breathy, and his eyes sweep across Shaak’s form as she rises to a sitting position and leans forward, taking another drink of ale. She schools her face into something resembling dignity to hide her reaction.

“Well, now you’ve got my heart beating,” Shaak stands and moves a handful of steps closer as well, until they’re just out of arms reach of each other. “Hoping.” She adds, her voice low and breathy. Colt’s breath hitches, and this time it’s Shaak who gives him a look, and the Commander undoes the straps that hold up the chest & back pieces of his shell, sliding his pauldron off of his shoulder. Shaak drinks in the sounds the plastoid bouncing against the ground, the vibrations in the air given off as the descending pieces fall through the air. The fabric of the blacks Colt was wearing underneath rustle as he adjusts them to serve as an outer layer.

“My dear, the things you do to me.” Shaak practically purrs at Colt now, and a flush creeps down his neck as they both take three steps closer into each other’s orbit. Still, a small smirk crosses his face – clearly, he’s familiar with some of the stories that led to that particular phrase becoming widespread in the temple, perhaps more so than many temple jedi. Idly, Shaak admires the power of the GAR’s gossip network as she and Colt clink their drinks against each other’s and take matching gulps.

“Perhaps you would have an interest heading somewhere private and checking out my lightsaber.” Colt murmurs back at her, and Shaak can’t stop the shivers that wrack her body at that, at the beautiful fusion of the dumb lines that the Vode throw back and forth with the normally elegant culture she was raised with.

Colt was **radiating** smug into the force, despite the fact that Shaak knew he could shield his emotions. She had taught him herself. Still, before Colt can get any smugger, Shaak reaches for the ties of her decorative overskirt, normally covered by her robe, and undid them. She moved each finger to unwind the knots very slowly, enjoying the prickle in the force that followed her movements as Colt’s focus was solely on her. Finally, Shaak got the knots free, and her overskirt fell, leaving Shaak in just her sleeveless top and the russet skirt that hung down to her ankles.

They both take two steps closer to each other, now just barely closer than what would be Coruscanti Socially Appropriate for two co-workers.

“Let’s find out if our bond could top The Team” Colt’s voice is low, and it is punctuated by the way the air around him is filled with a rush of certain hormones that punctuate **want** _,_ curling the tips of Shaak’s lekku, even as his face displays a cocky smile. Shaak matches his smile as her next line comes to her.

“Shall we explore a lifebond together?” She retorts, and Colt lets out a breathy sound. Shaak tips an eyebrow upwards at him, and he sighs, and removes the upper half of his blacks. They move closer towards each other until they’re barely a hand apart. Shaak can feel the air tingle with each of Colt’s breath. She leans forward, and their lips slam against each other in a fervent meeting of two forces.

They come together like two storms on the ocean, swirling into a hurricane of emotions. Shaak drops her mental shields from their bond, and the overwhelming love-affection-mine-need that pours in has Shaak stunned even as she responds with the nearly animalistic hunger, pulling Colt closer in a meeting of hands of skin, trying to achieve as many points of contact as she can, and Colt more than rises to the request she demonstrates, catching one hand around Shaak’s waist and the other grabs the back of Shaak’s head, grabs the lekku there. The sensation on the oh-so-sensitive organ sends a wave of heat through Shaak’s whole body, and she grabs at his own waist, catching her thumbs in his waistband.

They both come up for breath from the kiss, panting with desire when the door buzzes again, three short buzzes, the vibrations tingling across her lekku, muted by the hand on them as they are. Shaak squeezes twice on Colt’s shoulder – battle sign for unknown approaching, possible hostiles, and they detach as quickly as they had come together, desperately grabbing at discarded shirts and robes. Shaak silently prays that whoever is coming in isn’t force-sensitive, the force is still heavy with desire in the room.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything!” There is an unholy amount of glee in Commander Havoc’s force signature as he enters the room. Havoc knows exactly what he’s interrupting, the shebs.

“Someone better be bleeding Havoc, or else!” Colt bellows back, and the irritation bleeding into his force signature is a mirror to hers, strong irritations entwining with each other. Shaak bites back a snort, there’s a promise of violence in his voice that feels almost Jedi in the way it feeds on Colt’s emotions without taking on the qualities of the rage, rather funneling it into something else.

“I’m not here for you, Vod! Something’s wrong with some of the littles, and they’re asking for General Ti!” Havoc calls, as he enters the room in with his helmet off, hand thrown over his eyes in a very dramatic matter. With a sigh, Shaak refastens her overskirt and passes Colt’s pauldron back over to him from where it had tangled in the fabric.

“Kark.” Colt mutters under his breath, and Shaak snorts and tilts her head to him. She offers a hand to him.

“Well then, shall we, Commander?” She asks, wrapping her arm around his in a mockery of those old-timey holodramas that Depa used to wrestle the council into watching with her.

“After you, General,” Colt responds, and they make their way out of the door. Shaak feels Colt’s muscles shift as he turns to make some face at his brother, but Havoc’s force signature spikes with irritation very briefly before skipping into line beside them.

 _“So tell me, how did floating a pear become a Jedi innuendo?”_ Colt’s voice echoes through the still open bond to Shaak.

_“Well, it started with a series of recordings Skywalker’s droid made of his attempts to flirt-”_

**Author's Note:**

> Did R2-D2 record Anakin's attempts to flirt with Padme and make a highlight reel for Obi-Wan? Yes. Did it also leak the highlight reel to the rest of the temple because Anakin did something dumb? also yes. Did it become an in-joke and now all of his lines are the Jedi equivalent of pickup-lines? Most definitely. Other Jedi have started contributing their padawan's/master's best lines as well. It's quickly spiraling out of control.
> 
> Jedi flirtation has always involved a lot of emotions & force bonds, they don't have 'Jedi innuendoes' the same way the Vode do. Until R2.


End file.
